


So Sad We Fall (You Can’t Stay Here)

by wellthen



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Death, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27821728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellthen/pseuds/wellthen
Summary: Ax and Rachel compare notes on their favorite death poetry by prehistoric Andalite warriors, 16th century samurai, and 1998 UK Billboard chart toppers.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	So Sad We Fall (You Can’t Stay Here)

Rachel was alone in the barn when Ax started shouting about death and honor.

“There is no inn on the way to the underworld, so where shall I sleep tonight?“

He stormed through the barn door as he said this, full volume, arms outstretched. He moved slowly in a way that reminded her of the actors at those medieval themed restaurants or some weird Viking cosplay. 

One of the injured hawks squawked indignantly from the back of the barn.

“My coming, my going - two simple happenings that got entangled.” Ax intoned, beaming at her. 

His face was alight in a way Rachel hadn’t seen since he learned you could place double orders at Cinnabon. 

“O- okay.” Rachel said. She wasn’t sure if there was any other appropriate response.

“This dream of a fleeing world! The roseate hues of early dawn!” Ax said, continuing to beam. When Rachel did not beam back, he raised his eyebrows.

Eyebrow use was new for him. In Geometry class the week before, Marco told him the eyebrows were used to express hidden meaning to others. Ax spent the entire class period wiggling his eyebrows, but their teacher was no closer to understanding advanced Andalite notions of spatiality than she was at the beginning of the hour.

“Uh... You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here?” Rachel inquired back.

Ax frowned. “I am not familiar with this particular stanza. Is it from the 15th century impromptu Korean tradition? I admit I am not yet comfortable with the Hanja five-syllable format.”

“Uh. It’s a goodbye song.” Rachel said, aware that they were talking about completely different things but with no idea how to rectify it.

Ax nodded, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and thus no longer in motion.  
“I see. Is this a favorite of yours? Which rhyming pattern does it utilize? Is it a justification of betrayal or a reflection on impermanence?”

Rachel considered this. She wished Cassie would come back from feeding the rabbits.

“I guess... impermanence...?” 

Rachel was never good at all of that “the dog in Old Yeller represents Truth” English class type stuff. She preferred things be a little more cut and dried, a little more straightforward, which is why she was really over this conversation. 

“Ax, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about with all this death and honor Ren Faire stuff — and using your eyebrows doesn’t help.” She finished firmly as his forehead twitched.

Ax’s disappointment was significant enough to bar follow up questions about “Ren Faire stuff”.

“I have been studying Earth Warrior Culture to better understand human notions of honorable conduct in war. I found verses in your popular culture, however crude, that reminded me of the most ancient and esteemed Andalite death verses, long discarded.”

Rachel shrugged. “Cool. What was it from, Kill Bill?” 

Ax looked crestfallen. “I have just recited them — 16th century Samurai death poems. These are not a part of your ‘popular culture’ texts? I learned them through- Week. Weeky. WE KEE -Peed- 

“Uh... yeah. I don’t get the reference.” 

Rachel interrupted Ax’s syllabic freestyling before it could drag on. She would have rolled her eyes, but Marco had explained to Ax that eye rolling was a sign of derision in retaliation for making fun of his Gorilla morph. 

“We don’t really... know those. In America.”

Ax considered this for a moment. “Ah, yes, I forget. humans place meaning in antiquated geographically based differences, especially those demarcated by negligible biology.”

“Uh, sure.” 

The look on Ax’s face made Rachel feel... something. Not angry. 

Guilty? Lonely? Whatever it was, it was a feeling Rachel hadn’t experienced much since she started ripping people’s throats out as a Grizzly Bear. 

She tried to think of something to say to Ax that would make the feeling go away.

“They sound pretty.” She offered. 

Ax nodded, solemn. “They are written as the poet dies, a reflection on life and living. For centuries, Andalites wrote a similar, albeit more intricate, type of poem, until the fear of Yeerk infection made composing them dangerous, obsolete.” 

“Oh. That sucks.”

“Yes. They were very beautiful — the best Andalite poets could capture the fleeting high of bloodshed, weighing the sharp rush of battle against the slower, more contemplative joys of home, watching your trees flower.” 

“Sick. Maybe you could... I don’t know. You want to recite some?” Rachel had kind of hoped that once Ax realized she didn’t speak D&D he would leave her alone, but the whole glory of violence thing sounded... kind of neat.

“Certainly. Then... perhaps you could teach me the goodbye song of which you spoke.” Ax said stiffly, but he didn’t move his eyebrows.

“Sure. It’s uh... pretty ancient.”

The feeling didn’t go away, but Rachel was glad to know she could still laugh. 

— 

The blare of sirens indicated the Intrepid’s hold had been breached, and the Andalite Prince prepared his last transmission. 

He was grateful, even with smoke billowing from the navigation system, the bodies of the fallen around him. His writing marked a return to custom, ironic for such an unorthodox officer. An impossible luxury of time during the Andalite-Yeerk War was now ritual, the ancient made new again.

As the One’s onslaught approached, Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill wrote the final line of his death poem and felt satisfied.

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

—

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I tried three different ways to make this story hornier. 
> 
> I even started it as Jake/Ax, a ship I had never considered until 24 hours ago but will now die for. Both slash + Jake’s POV are well out of my writing comfort zone, but I was willing to risk it all to make this story sexy.
> 
> But at the end of the day, it was always going to be a story about Ax and Rachel. Two characters who are horny (for honor and battle, respectively) but certainly not horny for each other.
> 
> Orientalism + Death Poetry: Feeling slightly weird about this one’s emphasis on Japanese (w some Korean too) death poetry, an art form I have zero claim to or knowledge about as a white American. 
> 
> My awareness of death poetry, particularly the Japanese tradition and its ubiquity among the noble class in the 16th century is from a book I just read called  
> “Yalsulke: The Black Samurai“ which I highly recommend if you’re on this website, but especially if you’re interested in 16th century international relations, Japanese military history, sick battle scenes, or honor. 
> 
> I did a little bit of research into how Europeans have appropriated + exotized death poetry, but could only find a hyperspecific masters thesis on why Lord Byron sucks (admittedly always relevant). It seems that Andalite culture is based on medieval samurai history, so I wanted to think about how Ax would react to learning this history. That said, if you have any strong feelings or reactions to this, readings, recommendations, or opinions, let me know in the comments. 
> 
> Citations: Ax, like me, gleaned most of his knowledge from Wikipedia, a slightly anachronistic tool for an Animorph, but talking about time in a timeless YA novel is a whole other wormhole. 
> 
> Ax quotes here, in order — 
> 
> The title comes from the death poem of General Tadamichi Kuribayashi, the Japanese general at the Battle of Iwo Jima — “Arrows and bullets all spent, so sad we fall.”
> 
> The Zen monk Kozan Ichikyo - “My coming, my going - two simple happenings that got entangled.”
> 
> Tokugawa Ieyasu — “This dream of a fleeing world! The roseate hues of early dawn!” 
> 
> Korean figure Seong Sam-mu — There is no inn on the way to the underworld, so where shall I sleep tonight?”
> 
> Ax quotes himself while describing Andalite death poetry. In the last Animorphs book when he asks “How do you weigh the sharp rush of battle against the slower, more contemplative joys of watching your trees flower?”
> 
> And of course, Rachel (and later, Ax) quote a poem much more familiar to Westerners— Closing Time, by Semisonic. While writing this, I learned the Closing Time quote included here is from the Stoic philosopher Seneca. The more you know.
> 
> Finally, Ax has been discussed by some as neurodivergent, though I can’t find any citations, another thing I found potentially fraught in my depiction of him in the story. Since the note is already too long, I will just again reiterate — tell me how you feel/what’s off in the comments.


End file.
